Page 17 of Tough Love
I hope. “Thanks, chick.”
We disconnect with promises to keep in touch, and I set the phone down, ready more than ever for that shower. Briar’s voice drifts down the hallway as he chatters to himself in play, and I hesitate halfway across the room for a few moments, just listening to him and wishing I could find a way to escape reality as easily as a child.
Bitter sadness fills me, and yet it’s still not for Kath’s current state, it’s still shame at how heartless I am. She could have died, and the best I could do was light concern. We’ve been distant over the years; the only news we get of each other mediated through our parents. But even so, shouldn’t Ifeelsomething for her? Shouldn’t there be some unbreakable bond between siblings that’s resurrected when I receive such distressing news?
I shake my head clear and walk into the en-suite, leaving the door open a fraction—just in case. The warm water soothes my aches, but does little to wash away the creeping filth that seeps into every crevice of my soul. Secrets, dirty and cold, worm their way to the surface, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to stop the migration.
Everything is bound to come to a head if and when Kath gets home. The best I can do is prepare for every scenario, no matter how confrontational.
I towel off and head through to her room. My clothes from yesterday aren’t all that dirty, but wearing them a second full day seems filthy. I guess the jeans I can do, but the top? Eww. Kath’s closet is as expected: simple and sorted by colour. I select a faintly patterned grey cami, pair it with my jeans—commando—and then head out to check on Briar.
He’s moved on to making block bridges for his toy cars.
“All done now,” I announce cheerily, figuring he’d probably like some interaction with another person. “You want to find something we can do together?”
He nods, turning his head to look over at where I stand in his doorway with a smile on his face that quickly morphs into a frown. “Why do you have Mummy’s clothes on?”
I glance down at the top, suddenly lost for words. “I, uh, needed something clean to wear.”
“But that’s Mummy’s,” he shouts.
“It’s just until I can get home to pick up some clothes of my own, Briar.” Why I’m justifying myself to a six-year-old I’ll never know, but hey, whatever.
“No!” He stands and runs at me, barely giving me time to brace myself for his onslaught. “You’re not my mummy! Take it off!” His fists pummel my stomach. “I want my real mummy!”
Holy shit.I was totally not prepared for this. “Hey, it’s okay.” I try to catch his hands, to no avail.
“No, it’s not!”
“Briar, take a deep breath, dude.” Shit—I’m taking a few of my own.I can handle this.I think.
“Go away. I want Mummy here, not you. Go away!”
I guess when they break, they do it spectacularly. I give up trying to ease his fight the gentle way and wrap him in my arms, pinning his to his sides. He screams and kicks, but like hell I’m going to stand by and let him beat me to a pulp without doing whatever I can to control it.
“Settle down, Briar. Mum will be home soon, but I need to watch you until then.”
“No,” he sobs. “I want her home now.”
“So do I,” I say truthfully, albeit for different reasoning, “but she can’t come home until she’s all better.”
“Why not?” He eases, still stiff in my hold, but at least he’s given up the fight. “What’s wrong with her?”
Damn it. Evan and I danced around the subject so well last night, doing what we could not to alarm him. Still, truth is the best option, right?
“Mum had an accident in her car,” I say quiet and calm. “She’s okay, but she has a few ouchies that need to heal before she can come home and be the best for you again.”
“She have plasters on them?”
If only that’s all it took. “Sort of, yeah.”
The echo of somebody knocking on the door downstairs causes both of us to jolt.
“Want to go check that with me?”
He hesitates, the look in his eyes telling me he knows there’s more to what I said, yet not what exactly. “Okay.”
I take Briar’s hand—pretty sure I dodged a bullet—and lead him down to the foyer. Mum’s fussing image greets me through the peephole. I jerk my head to the door, looking at Briar.